


"It would be easier..."

by Regnard



Series: Eivor x Basim little sketches [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Heavy Angst, Other, Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28954116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regnard/pseuds/Regnard
Summary: "It would be easier if I would hate you...I wish I could find a reason to hate you…I wish I had the strength to hate you…I wish I could fake my hate to you…It would be easier if I’d hate you, if only I didn’t love you."Basim POV and his thoughts through the events of the main campain.
Relationships: Eivor/Basim Ibn Ishaq
Series: Eivor x Basim little sketches [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2125758
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	"It would be easier..."

_It would be easier if I would hate you..._

From the first moment I saw you back there on the docks, in icy Furnburd, I experienced an odd feeling. A feeling of strange recognition, like I had known you my entire life. It couldn’t be possible, but it was real for me. As real as the sharp gusts of wind that pricked and cut the skin of my face. The god inside me, the voice unchanging, in my head was silent, speechless, but I felt a surge of pure rage that oozed from this dark part of my soul. My body immediately became tense, my mind was swaying under the pressure of the old blood’s will, and all I could do to calm my heat-headed god was whisper soothing words that I hoped would help.

When the god finally spoke, he said nothing but sharp, cruel words of cursing. The flash of his painful memories covered my sight for a moment with a bloody-red veil. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. I saw my _~~his~~_ son again, wounded and weak, scared, calling out to me, crying. I felt helpless again, powerless to protect him. I saw the face of _our_ tormentor, with an unchanging arrogant smirk on his lips. I hated him, I wanted him dead.

But as I opened my eyes again, all I could see was your bright face, full of joy, your open smile, your arms that wrap around Sigurd in a warm embrace. Is this a face of a pure evil? Is this a voice of a murderer and a liar?

I hated myself for my moment of doubts. Loki hated me even more.

But I was no longer sure if all I had known and believed was an axiom.

_I wish I could find a reason to hate you…_

When you came back to the settlement one day, from your restless conquering, I was standing on the veranda of our Bureau, that you built yourself, as Hytham told me.

Why bother yourself with such a burden? Why even care about two strangers, so different from you and your people? I waited for you to ask for something in return, but you didn’t. Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you give me a damn reason to hate you? To calm my conscience, to calm my mind. To fool my mind for at least one night of peace.

You smiled at me. Brightly and openly. You smiled at the children passing by. They surrounded you, they begged you to join them in their childish game. You could’ve refused, but you didn’t. They took you with them, deep into the settlement, and you laughed with them as if it was the happiest day of your life.

I stood silent; I was speechless actually. I left the next day, not even bothering to bid you farewell. I let my horse rest only when night fell, heavy and cold. Ravensthorpe was far behind, and you were as well.

What awaited for me was another night of wandering through the halls of my restless mind.

_I wish I had the strength to hate you…_

Fate mocked me. The threads of my destiny were wrapped around my neck like a noose.

Sigurd wanted you among us. We never really needed you, but he desperately wanted you to join us. He wanted to prove to me that you’re worthy. I, on the other hand, wanted you to stray from your friendly and honorable path. To fall in my eyes somehow.

You didn’t trust me. You tried to look friendly to please your brother, but I saw through your smiles. I heard your voice, whispering to Sigurd about me. I kept silent, as I always do.

But the god in my head wasn’t anything like me. His bitter truthful words should’ve convinced me that I’ll do the right thing when the time came to stab Havi’s soul vessel right in the heart. He told me, I would not care, like you don’t care about me now. I should’ve been satisfied, in the end I received what I wanted, proof.

But the feeling of my righteousness poisoned my thoughts.

_I wish I could fake my hate to you…_

We sat in the bright light of a bonfire, and you kept asking and asking me about myself. Like there was a chance this kind of information would interest you. You cared less about days that are long gone, or about the gods and the Ancients, with whom Sigurd and I, in your opinion, were obsessed with. But your eyes filled with such joy, when I described you my homeland, that I unwittingly held my breath. Some wise men said that we have an instinct to return the smiles that one gives us.

I was helpless to resist.

I felt a sudden impulse to share the most sacred memory I’ve had. I told you about _our_ son. How I lost him, how I missed him. _“I’m sorry”_ , you said. And I wanted to believe you with all my heart, that you do. That it would be enough. Everything would turn differently then. I could guide you; I could teach you. I could protect you.

But I will never dare to dream of it.

In the end, _He_ will shut my eyes, _He_ will put my mind into sleep. I will fight for you, but I’m not sure this is a battle I could possibly win.

And if your blood covers my hands, I will pray. I will remember all the holy words my cursed soul has ever known.

I will pray to never wake.

_It would be easier if I’d hate you, if only I didn’t love you._


End file.
